


One for the money, two for the show

by Onikotsu



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cops, Alternate Universe - Mob, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:11:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onikotsu/pseuds/Onikotsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chief Vlad was known for getting things done and playing rough if he had to. Unfortunately for him, to a man like Dan that only made him sound like the perfect playmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Following the first chapter, this will be a fairly explicity Bitterly Broken (Dan/Vlad) fanfiction. It's set in a universe in which Vlad is a Police Chief, and Dan is a Mob Boss, so enjoy!

Twenty years after the laboratory accident in college, and the memory of it was still a daily irritant for Police Chief Vlad Masters. Very few officers in his department weren’t aware of the incident ‘with that big fat oaf, Jack Fenton’, who had consequently cost him five years of his youth. Five years in the hospital while doctors toiled over recovery, perplexed as to how to treat his unique condition. It had made his hair fall out and his eyes glow an eerie florescent blue. The hair had grown back, eventually, but it had been white straight from the roots; looking in the mirror from that day forth had elicited a sense of loss and overwhelming rage towards Jack. But he had picked himself up from that. After finishing college in his late twenties, he entered a police academy and worked his way up the ranks from there — with the occasional bribe from the vast fortune his family had left him. If not for the thrill of holding power over the citizens of where he worked, as well as his team of young men and women, he might have become a social recluse. Never a day went by that he wasn’t glad he hadn’t surrendered to the urge to hide away like a hermit.

 

He had started out as Sheriff; he’d relinquished his sheriff’s badge primarily out of boredom. Too much paperwork, not enough field work. Collecting taxes and attending bi-weekly meetings were all well and good if that was ones passion, but it was only a vague interest of Vlad’s. He didn’t care enough for other people to really enjoy the position. As a Police Chief in a city of with a population numbering in the millions, he had shootings, car chases, mobs and drug cartels, kidnappings, and mass homicide cases to follow up almost daily. It kept him entertained, stimulated, and oh boy, did he enjoy being in cahoots with some of the cartels and mob bosses. Always under a stage name. It was through manipulation of various King Pins that he had earned himself a good few millions, enough that he usually went home to a castle-like structure.

 

Dan Phantom was a current quarry, someone he’d had the most prized member of his team interacting with over several months under the guise of a fellow mob boss. Daniel Fenton, Jack Fenton’s son, had never failed to live up to his unreasonably high expectations, even if Daniel regarded him with (he felt) unwarranted animosity. He hadn’t yet managed to coerce a location out of Dan, however; the man was incredibly elusive when they did manage to catch the slightest whiff of a trail.

 

Swinging his baton between his hands, whistling, Vlad walked from one end of the pavement to the other. It was late evening, and he had decided to accompany one of the rookies on their first evening in the slums. Not out of compassion, but because very little of note actually happened in the slums on Monday nights and it was amusing to watch his inferiors quiver when he asked them to go to a nearby seedy corner store and buy him a sandwich. He was a 'good friend' with the corner store owner he sent his rookies to, but they didn’t know that, and the rest of his team had yet to catch on despite having gone through the very same experience.

 

Dan Phantom sometimes regretted picking his last name, but that’s what happened when a kid needed to lose his last name so he couldn’t be dragged back home. He had started as a lookout for the local gang at 10, eager for money and an excuse to not be home. By 14 he had made connection with the mob led by Mr. Plasmius and decided that being out on his own was better than ever going back home. The boss had hooked him up with someone who didn’t ask for any sort of information when renting shitty holes in the wall and that was that. 

He had found that for all his failure in school he did in fact have a gift. He was strong, fast, and nasty. Rising through the ranks had been a piece of cake, though he had been almost sorry to say goodbye to the loan shark position. It had allowed for quite a bit of hands on creativity. But Mr. Plasmius had died and he hadn’t been interested in following the lead of anyone else. So he had taken control and was now rich and powerful at 24. He had his fingers in all that he considered fun; gambling, drugs, protection rackets, and loan sharking. All the things that could turn very messy and exciting at the drop of the hat. Unfortunately nothing was exciting right this moment, everyone just playing by the rules and not stirring up trouble.

Pushing his platinum blonde hair back from his face he reached for the hair tie to keep it back as he read over the file that had been compiled for him on the police chief. Vladimir Masters was the interesting sort, interesting enough for Dan to try and lure out into the open. It was the only reason he kept giving his undercover man anything besides a pair of cement shoes. Mob boss dealing with human trafficking had been a bad cover story to pick for him; Danny had just a bit too much goodness in his eyes for that to be true. He hadn’t sized Dan up like a piece of meat right as he shook his hand like most human traffickers did just out of habit. 

His stomach growled and he took his feet off his desk to stand up, ignoring the pained squeal of his chair. Living in a shitty place until he was old enough to move out and paranoia had made it easy to have multiple, not so comfortable offices dotting his turf. He kept information scattered so that he never needed to worry about anyone getting their hands on everything. 

He tucked the file away and locked the drawer before heading down the stairs and out into the evening air, in the mood for a sandwich at one of his favorite corner stores, looking for all the world like a shabby businessman with his hair pulled back in a dress shirt and slacks. He’d had an appointment with the supplier for some club drugs earlier and the man tended to be harder to bargain with if he showed up in wife beater. 

 

This area was the height of mob activity, so it was a little surprising for Vlad to spot someone so formally dressed strolling down the sidewalk. Instinctively, the baton transferred to a single hand so his other hand could hover over the gun in his belt. Just in case. The criminals in this section of town tended to keep to themselves when the police were patrolling the streets, but subordinates were prone to testing their luck. Vlad knew that from first-hand experience with some of the more enthusiastic initiates of his own station. He slowed his stride as they entered each others immediate vicinity, and stopped once they had a single slab of concrete separating them. The man with his light blonde hair and red eyes struck him as familiar. It was an unusual combination, though not so much that he felt the need to be hostile. A small smile curved his mouth, and he asked in a rather gentle, cheery tone, “Good evening. I hate to… hinder whatever it is you’re doing out at this time of day, but I’m going to have to stop you for a quick body search. Protocol and all.” Well, it wasn’t, but they didn’t know that, and people rarely questioned the intentions of police officers when directly confronted.

 

“Sorry officer, just popping by a shop to get a bite to eat.” Dan gave a slow smile, knowing that the predatory quality of it tended to set people on edge. But he spread his arms complacently. “I’m carrying a licensed firearm and have a concealed carry permit so don’t get jumpy when you feel that alright?” He knew it wasn’t protocol, but at the moment he actually didn’t have anything to hide on him and resisting could kick up a fuss. One eyebrow went up as he recognized the man the hat. Fancy that, police chief Vlad in the slums. 

 

"Oh, I’m sure you are," Vlad replied sweetly. If this man could afford a carry permit, he could afford lodgings in a better part of town. He was obviously part of a criminal organization. If the body search didn’t turn up any evidence, he wouldn’t be able to bring him in without facing repercussions from his team — namely Daniel — and he wasn’t willing to risk months of animosity to take one measly rat off the streets. Albeit, a well-dressed rat. He gestured towards a decrepit brick wall. "Face the wall, palms up. This won’t take more than a moment."

 

“Take your time, not every day I get the privilege of being felt up by a police chief.” It was a pity he hadn’t heard about this before, it would have been fun to set up a messy little show for him. He mused over that as he assumed the position, used to it by now. Once this would have terrified him, because if they took him in they would want to call his home. But he had learned that the calmer he stayed the quicker they went and then Mr. Plasmius had taken it upon himself to teach one of his most valuable enforcers how to dodge around the laws a little smoother by making sure his knives were always just inside the standards of what was allowable and that he had permits, even though the gun itself might not exist on the records. Even his wallet was clear of anything; he didn’t have a license so there was no id there. 

 

"On the contrary, that’s a daily occurrence around these parts. Makes one wonder why such a dapper man would be out and about." He felt up his arms, beneath his pits, and then descended to his waist, delving briefly into his pockets. The gun was there, as were at least one of the knives. The gun he made sure was on safety, but otherwise left alone. He then reached the thugs ankles, kneeling and feeling for weaponry concealed there.

 

“I hope the interviewer thought I was dapper too.” He laughed easily at the end of the lie. It was tempting to kick him as he knelt at his feet and he worried his lip as he thought about it. There was no chance of Vlad catching up with him, not on his home turf but the chase might be fun. Then his stomach grumbled, reminding him that if he had to run from the police he wouldn’t be getting the sandwich he wanted. Since he doubted Vlad would provide a real challenge the sandwich won out.

 

The radio attached to his belt was beeping. Interaction between different crews, nothing for him to concern himself with. He continued searching the thug, only distantly aware of what he was doing. “Vying for a better lifestyle?” he asked, just to be conversational.

 

Dan’s head cocked as he listened to the radio chatter, knowing police movements was always useful. Vlad’s hands were continuing to move over him, but not really seriously. Not like he was a mob boss and this was his chance to bring him in. It was almost cute how completely clueless he was. “Wouldn’t you if you had to be armed to head to the corner store?” It was only good sense to be always armed; he could remember the rapture of getting his first knife, learning the weight of it, the bite of it into other’s flesh.

 

"Mmm, well, it wouldn’t be much of a change from my current lifestyle, and I’m content with my lot in life." He was the scourge of all criminals, after all. Attempts on his life were frequent.

 

There was nothing concerning at Dan’s ankles, but when he heard the staticky voice of his partner interrupt the unintelligible chatter he felt compelled to linger there. Dropping one knee to the pavement, he plucked the radio from his pocket and set it against his ear.

 

"What is it, Foley?"

 

"Did you want decaf? You never said. Oh, and, uh…"

 

Vlad idly touched the hems of Dan’s pant legs as he spoke, “Yes? What?”

 

"Are we suppose to talk about, you know… crime over the radio if it kind of doesn’t have anything to do with our crew?"

 

Vlad sighed. Rookies. “They’re for urgent communication. I take it’s not urgent if you’re hesitating.”

 

"Well, it’s just— it happened in our area, not that long ago." Interest piqued, Vlad abruptly stood from the ground and dismissed Dan with a wave of his hand, turning on his heels to stalk back towards their car. They could still take action, perhaps. Make the night a little more interesting.

 

"Splendid!" he exclaimed, suddenly cheery. "Go on, let’s hear it."

 

"Well, Danny just called in and said some guys were getting back from a little get-together in our area." The shrug on the other side of the radio was almost audible. "We could probably check it out for them, but it’s probably empty. Danny said the warehouses are always vacated pretty quickly."

 

Vlad paused. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he’d run into someone in a suit. “Back to the car. Oh, and make it caffeinated.” With that, he ended the feed and swung back around, gun in hand as he prepared for a chase. Assuming the thug hadn’t run off at first opportunity, that was.

 

Once he had been dismissed Dan had continued on his way and at the sound of a gun cocking ducked quickly into the corner store. His eyes snagged on the young officer that was heading towards him with a bag and coffee. His lips stretched into a grin as he closed the distance before the man could look up from the radio, fist connecting with his face to drop him. He knelt to snag the radio and bag of sandwiches before jumping the counter, the owner staying out of his way as he ran for the backdoor.

 

Tucker fell unceremoniously to the ground, unresponsive from then onwards. It took Vlad several minutes of empty static to enter the corner store and stumble upon his comatose partner. Picking him up from the floor with ease, scowling, Vlad began an angry trek back to the car without his sandwich and coffee. It was with one hand that he shoved the young man into the back, the other cradling his radio to his ear. “I’m going to take that radio off the network and have it play Nicki Minaj whenever you try to use it,” he snapped into the speaker. “And you will thoroughly regret taking my sandwich!” With that said, he ended the connection, throwing the radio into the passenger seat on his way over to the driver’s side.

 

Dan laughed at the anger in his voice, slowing to a stop to lean against the alley wall since it didn’t sound like Vlad would be in pursuit. He clicked on the radio, cradling it lazily against the side of his head, laughter still clear in his voice, no longer attempting to sound harmless, “How threatening, truly the scourge of the underworld whose weapons include club music and fights to avenge sandwiches.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “You know, I still can’t tell if you’re worth playing with Vlad, you’re cute but maybe just a little too dumb for my tastes.” He released the button and unwrapped the first sandwich to begin devouring it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing that Dan enjoys more than a few rounds of cage fighting and the clarity it brings him. 
> 
> Warnings: Violence and minor non-con touching

Dan rolled his shoulders as he got into the cage, the bright lights shining down on him making him squint after the dimmer lights of the rest of the club. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding easily under his wife-beater; there was nothing better than spending the night in the ring, fighting all comers.

 

The bookies hated it he was sure, no one was betting against the odds tonight, not against him. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest as he waited. Some nights he got newcomers who wanted to see where they stood against their boss, sometimes he got older fighters who had lost to him before but were game to try again, and sometimes when things were slow, he got loyal men who wanted to make their boss happy. Because they knew if the cage stayed empty of fun for too long that he wasn’t going to be anywhere near happy.

 

It would have been wonderful to do this every night, but he restricted himself to only cage fighting when he really needed it. When he could feel his craving to make someone bleed and hurt getting to the point where he was losing focus in other areas.

 

A newcomer, one of those who thought that their boss wasn’t all he was cracked up to be from the smirk on his face, climbed into the cage and the fight began. Dan didn’t think during fights anymore, everything was on instinct and the muscle memory of a hundred fights. His fists found the weak points and as the younger man staggered he grabbed him by the hair and bounced his head off the side of the cage and down he went.

 

Some of his men cheered but he didn’t care about that. What was more important was the rush in his veins, the feeling of complete victory and domination. Later tonight when he was back home in bed the adrenaline would fade to a smooth and easy focus that would carry him through the next week. 

 

He fought late into the night, pacing the cage when there was no one else in it like a wild cat, waiting for more prey to tear apart. By the time he was done his sides were heaving and fighting under the hot lights had left him covered in sweat.

 

His eyes scraped across the crowd, making sure there was no one else who looked up to challenging him before letting himself out of the cage, the cool of the dark soothing his hot skin and a pint of water from the bartender cooling his insides. The first time Mr. Plasmius had seen him fight in the cages he had scolded him when he went to cool off with a pint of beer. For a moment he had thought that it was because he was 15 and drinking. Until Mr. Plasmius had chuckled and explained dehydration and when he had finished his glass of water ordered him a beer.

 

The recognition from his boss, a man who had garnered respect and fear from even hardened criminals twice his age, had made his ears flush back then. Just the memory of it made him smile a bit as he drank down his water, already motioning for the beer to follow it. Mr. Plasmius had been the only person to ever make him flush. The man had known it too, and used it for his own amusement and gain.

 

Dan had no complaints about that, he was the one weak enough to have a crush and having it used had given him a taste of what he wanted. Little touches on the back of the neck and being given the chance to be his bodyguard when he was going into a dangerous situation. Mr. Plasmius had even hinted that his eighteenth birthday present might be getting all that he wanted from the way Mr. Plasmius’ eyes had traveled up and down him when he mentioned the event. He had died the month before though, shot in the back. Dan hadn’t flushed since.

 

A few of his lieutenants came up to congratulate him on the fights, each making sure to tell him that they had put their money on him. He didn’t care whether they congratulated him or betted on him, but loyalty was useful so he just nodded and allowed them to continue. After fighting he always felt less interested in actually speaking, but he listened as they talked amongst themselves about this and that.

 

When one of the men he had fought against walked past on his way to get another drink, one of the ones who had been cocky and eager to take him down a peg, he stuck his hand out and pulled them into his lap.

 

They started struggling, until they turned enough to see who it was. He watched them pale and stop struggling, saw their eyes glance over at their group of cronies looking for assistance and then back at him when they found none.

 

He ignored their babbling, nuzzling his face into their throat almost affectionately to feel their pulse kick up. His lieutenants acted like nothing was happening, continuing to talk. He had made it clear even when he wasn’t the boss that he didn’t give a fuck about the opinions of others when it came to what he chose to do sexually and that interfering wasn’t allowed. They never interfered when it was a man pulling in a girl if the girl wasn’t theirs and this was no different.

 

He played with the man for a bit, terrifying him with a squeeze to his crotch as he ground his hips up into his ass. But in the end terror was never enough and he let the man go, not even bothering to watch him dart away back to the supposed safety of his so-called friends. He snorted and ordered another round of drinks. Sometimes it pissed him off that he couldn’t find anyone, male or female that sated what he needed.

 

There had been Valarie, a girl who had worked at the bar and was so very angry. She had punched a patron who got too friendly her first night working the bar. Dan had laughed at the sight and stopped the owner from firing her. She had repaid him by angrily bitching him out that she didn’t need any help.

 

From then on any time he came in she waited on him and he watched as she gained a reputation not only as a favorite of his but as a tough chick in her own right. If anything it only made her angrier since then she grumbled that she didn’t want that kind of reputation, that she hated this place, hated that it was the only place she could find work that would give her enough hours, where the pay was the best she could get.

 

She hated her old friends; she hated the accident that had lost her father his job. Dan had looked into that on random curiosity and found that it was a matter of her father refusing to pay the protection money to his men and shrugged. Nothing to be done there. Her father should have been smarter. He kept his mouth shut on that even as he goaded her anger in other directions.

 

In the end it shouldn’t have surprised anyone how it exploded into kisses that swelled lips and broke the skin, nails clawing into unprotected flesh and the delightful violence of it all. Her anger made her unbreakable even against his strength.

 

When she got out of the bed first, saying that she couldn’t waste time, that she had homework to do, and left him lying there still panting in the afterglow he had felt almost affection for her. He’d showed the affection by eating her out until she was limp in defeat and defenseless in front of him.

 

He loved to watch how her anger only grew instead of turning into defeat. How her nails only got harsher over time, never attempting to turn a touch into anything soft.

 

Then she had gotten a new job at the college she had gotten into and he had learned that she was even more beautiful when triumphant. She had crowed at her victory, her escape, the last two weeks she worked at the bar. Her satisfaction in herself was only made better by how it spurred her on in the sheets. She had ridden him until he thought that she might actually break them both and when he had lain there beneath her, expecting her to roll out of bed or just lay down to sleep next to him she had instead smiled and leaned down, a predatory look in her eyes as she told him that she had a present for him.

 

Looking back on it he had been lucky she had lubed the strap on before thrusting into him though he knew she had only done it to facilitate her own thrusts. He could remember the sound of his own savage laughter as she had taken him, the afterglow burned away in pain ripping through his body and how his nails had dug into her back, not trying to stop her. The look in her eyes had been breathtakingly savage. After they were done she had watched him as if waiting for some sort of revenge but he had just wiped the cooling cum off his belly and laughed. Anyone who let down their guard, who was weak and deserved whatever they got. 

 

The remainder of the two weeks they found a new wildness in them, almost playful but just too desperate to manage that. They both knew that when she left the bar for good she left him behind as well.

 

He had kept a bit of an eye on her and when she graduated he had sent her a gift of money, untraceable of course, enough to pay off her college debts. He was a jealous enough creature that he didn’t want anyone else to see her beautiful anger when she was desperate and the glory of her triumph over amazing odds. Those were his things of her. Her violence was his.

 

Ever since her there hadn’t been anyone fun, a couple nights here or there but in the end he needed someone stronger, someone who could keep their rage burning no matter what. Who, even when they seemed to break always pulled themselves back together with a mean smile before giving back as good as they got the next time. Life was sometimes boring without an equal.

 

At that depressing thought his mouth curved downwards and with a couple quiet goodbyes to his lieutenants he ambled out of the club and back towards the apartment with the good shower and bed. It was a good ways away, on a street that was maintained nicely and had trees planted into the sidewalk. His sweat covered skin cooled further in the night air. Not many people were out this late and the sound of shitty in the window air cons on their last legs accompanied him until he was out of that section of town and then there was only the occasional sound of cars a few streets down.

 

In the elevator with him up to his place were two girls, one drunk and leaning on her friend as she giggled. The other girl watched him with suspicion and he could see her hand in her pocket in the reflection of the metal door.

 

The calm was settling into his bones, his bloodlust spent and he took a long hot shower, letting the water pound down on his back. He’d be sore in the morning no matter what but the water at least soothed the muscles a bit. When he climbed out he shook off like a dog. He had towels now but it was a hard habit to break even though he toweled himself off afterwards before collapsing into bed. The good mattress beneath him didn’t even creak as he settled on it. He focused on the calm he had gained from fighting, trying to ignore that it was a little further away than usual, the restless itch still at the very core of his bones as he fell asleep.


End file.
